


Once Was Evasion

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-05
Updated: 2011-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-17 15:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tag to 1x19, Ne Me'e Laua Na Paio</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Was Evasion

It's the work of a few seconds to jack a car, takes far longer for Steve to double-back, circle, cover his tracks, and make sure he's done a military-grade job of evasion. He doesn't trust his phone so he doesn't make calls – there's no telling whose line got tapped, which conversation Wo Fat overheard – but it's not as if he wasn't prepared. There was always a chance he'd need cover, a safe house, supplies he wouldn't be able to requisition on the fly. Mary's abduction only deepened that conviction, that he ought to prepare some place to go to ground – a place where he could shelter others from the shrapnel of his life.

He'd half expected it would be Danny he'd have to hide.

But it's Jenna, and she's safe, knows how to handle herself in a risky situation. Steve leaves her armed with a laptop and a security key for encryption – it should buy enough time for her to build some better defense – asks her to load the gun he's kept hidden, assures himself she's weapon-trained and ready. She rolls her eyes at him – he appreciates that.

He dumps the car, wipes it as clean as he can, figures the owners will be glad enough to have it found and HPD too overworked to spare manpower and budget lines on forensics. There are backstreets he can take, and he meanders to the beach, stops jogging when he's close to the traffic cameras and walks the rest of the way back to his car. From this point there's no point in breaking pattern – he has a job to do, needs his team to help him do it, and their profile's an asset to them now. If a take-down's coming it won't be in the dark or a plausible accident. It'll come with all the world watching, in pursuit of a case, in the bright-white glare of midday plain sight. He heads toward home, texts Danny to bring beer, and sweeps his house for bugs and breaches before the Camero pulls into his drive.

Danny makes himself at home, sheds tie and shoes, pulls at a Longboard and watches Steve pace. Steve talks. It's not a conversation – can't be, not yet. Steve needs all the air in the room, the space, the distance; needs Danny to understand and to stay the hell away until the first wash of adrenaline fades. Danny knows him well enough – too well; so fucking well it twists inside him, such improbable acceptance – and only asks questions when Steve finally stills, when he sinks down on the ottoman and accepts the beer Danny nudges across the table.

"So, your life sucks," Danny offers, and it startles a laugh out of some place inside Steve that creaks and hurts. He pulls at the beer, nods his agreement, lets Danny work up a head of steam about Wo Fat and murder and CIA agents who up and take leave to track down crime bosses instead of taking a real vacation, and when Steve says, "You're saying someone might come to Hawaii to have a good time?" Danny smirks and says, "Okay, right there babe, you're back with me. Nice to see you, thanks for stopping by."

Steve ends up on the couch – Danny bumps their shoulders, purposefully knocks elbows – and they talk out the case, run every half-assed idea they have, sketch out a plan of action for morning. The minutes pull grit-rough and mean against Steve's skin, and he rubs at his forehead, shudders with the weight of ghosts he can't help but carry, and finally, cautiously, with Danny at his back, lets exhaustion and worry crowd in. Danny stills, mumbles something indistinct, gestures with one hand before he pulls Steve against him, kicks their feet up onto the couch, shoves and pushes himself right into Steve's space.

"You done now?" Danny asks softly. "You think we could sleep, here, you and me, get a little shut eye?" And Steve shifts his body, settles more comfortably, tucks a hand beneath Danny's arm. Some part of his mind's still primed for flight but there's heat enough here to slow the both of them down, and he needs this, he realizes, like sight lines, like his gun, like the burn of air in lungs too-long starved.

"Yeah," he says as Danny's fingers stir in his hair. "Just a little while."

And Danny huffs, says, "Oh babe, you got me for the long haul," and there's no way to dodge the force of that affection – no cover, no shield – so Steve meets it head on, sinks down into the warmth of it, closes his eyes and rests there, found.


End file.
